


Snuffed Out

by garylovesjohn



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Blood and Gore, Broken Bones, Bullying, Choking, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Ero Guro, F/M, Face Punching, Loss of Virginity, Misogyny, Murder, Muteness, Necrophilia, Painful Sex, Piss, Rough Oral Sex, Ryona, Slut Shaming, Stench, Strangulation, Urination, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garylovesjohn/pseuds/garylovesjohn
Summary: Knight Lautrec finds a helpless prey.
Relationships: Lautrec of Carim/Anastacia of Astora
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Snuffed Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzhiDahaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzhiDahaka/gifts).



> Please mind the tags. Nobody is forcing you to read.  
> This fic contains very graphic and dark material. Don't come crying if you read something you couldn't stomach.
> 
> This is a Christmas gift for my sister who has a huge crush on Lautrec.

Head hung low in piety and humility, Anastacia sat in her dank, muddy cell underneath the shrine.

Usually, her contemplation was peaceful.

But not today.

No, today, her quietude was perturbed by someone.

An unsavoury knight who had arrived earlier. Although well-mannered and adorned in golden armour, he filled Anastacia with unease.

He wouldn't stop staring at her.

Although she refused to look at him, she could feel his gaze burning under her skin.

Why, of all places, had he chosen to sit right there? The one spot where no one cared much to thread. The one spot where she could not escape his prying eyes.

Whenever she heard metal scraping, she threw him a furtive, frightened glance. Nothing but a tiny peek, merely lasting a second. Just making sure he wasn't coming towards her.

After a while, he removed his crowned helmet, letting grey, shoulder-length hair come flowing to surround his pallid, angular face. His waxy skin, his cold, naturally scowling eyes. There was no doubt about it, he was from Carim.

Instantly, Anastacia tensed up, knowing the dubious reputation those folks carried. In just merely a look, she already found him repulsive beyond words. She winced a bit despite herself and then prayed he hadn't noticed.

Oh, but he had.

"See something you like?" he asked, voice smoky and gravelly, calm and calculated.

Yet, she discerned the facade. That man was unhinged as can be.

Leaving his helmet on the ground, he came walking towards her, leaning upon the chipped rocks which formed the entrance to her little alcove.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" he teased her, a smirk upon his fishlike mouth. He knew she couldn't speak. That chatty Crestfallen warrior had told him everything.

Anastacia turned her face further away from the man with an unveiled disdain. He was so close now she could smell him. No matter how pristine his armour looked, he sure reeked from inside of it. How many weeks of arduous travel? How many fights had he endured without the comfort of a bath?

She dared not imagine.

"Firekeepers." he scoffed with scorn, "You all think you are such pure, virtuous maidens. You wear rags and cower in cells like beggars hoping to inspire pity. What a ridiculous lie. An act, nothing more. You all think yourselves so high above everybody else because you keep the flame burning for all the little moths to congregate."

Eyeing his helpless prey up and down, Lautrec spat on her, the thick glob of saliva landing in her dirty blonde hair.

As expected, it did not phase her much. She remained proud in her faked humility, which only further irritated him. He believed none of it.

Freeing his soft cock out from his leather pants and cingulum belt, he pissed nonchalantly through the bars of her cell. There was nowhere she could recoil away and the wet mud soon soaked up her dingy skirt.

She wrinkled her nose at the stench. The potent musk of urine mixed with that of unwashed manhood. She dared not look at it, but she was soon commanded to do so.

"Look at me, you worthless harlot." snapped Lautrec, dick in hand, as his stream slowly died down, "I bet you've seen plenty of men before, so why act so shy?"

Aggravated by her refusal, he tried to reach in to grab her hair, but as he leaned his full weight against the bars separating them, one of them became slightly loose.

Taking a step back, he saw the friable rock was coming undone around the old, rusted iron.

With a grunt, he pulled the weakened bar away and tossed it aside.

In terror, Anastacia was backed at the bottom of the alcove. There was nowhere to run. She froze for a short moment and it was already too late. A firm, metal-gloved hand painfully grasped her hair, nearly pulling it out of her scalp, and yanked her out of her hole.

She scraped her knees bloody on the rocks and ended face down in the stinking mud. Nevertheless, panic caused her to fight back. She kicked and thrashed around, vainly trying to escape her aggressor.

Lautrec did not take kindly to such resistance. He balled his fist, golden knuckles hard as iron, and punched her without holding back.

Still she struggled. Screaming a strange sound, unable to truly vocalize without a tongue.

A few more hits and he had broken her nose and knocked a couple of her teeth out.

Her head spinning, throbbing in pain, Anastacia relented before her assailant. She fell silent, dazed as she was. Not that she would have much occasion to scream anymore for her mouth was soon invaded by the knight's disgusting dick.

She grimaced. Though unable to taste the piss dripping from the limp foreskin, she could feel it.

She could smell it.

It made her gag and that got her aggressor laughing.

"Wait until I'm hard, you'll truly choke."

She sputtered weakly, in too much agony to truly be able to worry about anything. His scent even more vile than his looks. It was all she could think of. She felt him growing within, straining her jaw with his size. Her bleeding lips further splitting.

Without any kindness, he hilted her throat and she found herself buried nose-deep in stinking grey pubes. It was revolting, mixing with the scent of her own blood and his freshly marked territory.

Her gag reflex quickly got the best of her and she began to disgorge. With her mouth full, it all came squirting out of her busted nose before he freed her.

She fell on all fours into the mud, vomiting bile mixed with the meagre gruel which had been her only meal of the day.

"You filthy bitch!" Lautrec spat, kicking her in the puddle of her own making, "How dare you dirty my armour as such? It's worth far more than your pathetic life."

He pressed her head harder into the ground with his foot as he tore the clothes off her back. He used the rags to clean up his greaves lest they rust.

Then he grabbed her to service his erection once again. Callously fucking her throat, but this time pushing her away when he saw she was about to vomit.

She had nothing left to give and thus only dry-heaved, shivering in sickened fear.

"I have to admit, I've never gotten sucked by a woman without a tongue." admitted Lautrec with a shrug, "Disappointing, really."

As he had expected, there was something missing. Not only that, but she wasn't very enthusiastic about it either. She was a lousy cocksucker. A real waste of skin. Good for nothing.

Tired of her ineptitude, he freed her mouth before kneeing her in the stomach. He then pressed her supine on the ground, pushing his full weight, armour and all, over her frail body.

Out of breath, Anastacia couldn't even fight to keep her legs closed. He was already between them, the hard metal digging into the skin of her thighs, bruising and scratching her all over.

Fumbling a bit, Lautrec struggled to find her slit, blindly poking around with his dick until he finally located the hole.

There he found less resistance than expected and was able to thrust into her virginity effortlessly.

"That got you excited, didn't it? I knew you were nothing but a whore. A bitch in heat craving to be mounted by anyone." he taunted her over her unwanted wetness.

Despite the meagre lubrication, Anastacia felt her poor, untouched intimacy torn apart by the brutal intrusion. It burned like white hot fire between her legs.

And, when he began pounding, it hurt even worse within.

Not only was he too thick for her, but he was also too long. He bumped into her cervix, beating against it like a battering ram attempting to breach a castle's defences.

She did not even bother to groan in protest. She remained motionless, unwilling to fight anymore.

It was too late anyway.

He had defiled her. He had completely sullied her body.

This is justly deserved, she told herself. You're nothing but a dirty, sinful woman. It's not your tongue that should have been cut off, but your head. You deserve all the pain, all the humiliation, and so much more.

She stared vacantly at the overcast skies above, focusing on something other than her attacker's face.

Tears slowly rolled from her swollen eyes, pooling into her ears. She was still conscious, but she wasn't truly there anymore. She no longer felt anything.

It didn't matter.

"How many times must I tell you? Look at me, whore!" ordered Lautrec in a growl punctuated with a sharp punch to his victim's already inflamed jaw.

Anastacia was too out of it. It was like she couldn't even hear him. She felt a fist meeting her skin many more times, but her pain was dull and distant. Unyielding iron crashing into tender flesh. Her jaw dislocated. Her diminutive tits bruised black. Her stomach punched so hard it ruptured her innards.

She was barely conscious, but she still felt a firm hand wrapping around her slender neck. The pressure crushing her windpipe. Only a soft hiss escaped her bleeding lips.

Her body panicked in the throes of death and she pissed herself without even realizing.

Lautrec laughed gleefully to feel the hot trickle between her legs, wetting his reddened cock. He savoured the sight of all the vessels bursting in her eyes, turning the white a deep red. He relished how she clenched around him as she was slowly fading.

"Yes, you come easily for any cock, don't you?"

He knew she wasn't truly climaxing, but tormenting her was what he truly longed for. This wasn't about sex nor relief. He was above all of this. It was about defacing this maiden of piety. This sign of hope in a forsaken world.

His pleasure lied in desecration. In the chaos of it all.

He kept rutting into her like an animal well after she was gone. His fingers still clenched around her throat as he came deep inside of her.

A long groan of exultation left his snarling, drooling mouth. Still calling her a harlot as he peaked, even though he knew she couldn't hear him anymore.

Fingers combing his grey hair, now soaked in sweat, out of his face, he looked upon his victim's demolished face. She was unrecognizable now. He had broken her in so many places. She was all swollen, skin a deep shade of purple, veins prominent underneath. There was blood all over, its bright colour nicely complimenting the tarnished gold of her tangled tresses.

He licked her parted lips, tasting the unpleasant bile still upon them. Sighing into her mouth, kissing her deeply. He had made her entirely his.

Satisfied, he pulled out and made himself decent again. He donned his helmet once more, concealing his flushed visage.

Kneeling one last time next to the firekeeper's corpse, he wrenched the soul out of her lifeless body. Truly cementing her utter defilement. Committing unspeakable blasphemy in the name of his goddess.

What a fitting offering to her beauty. Blessed Humanity to keep her radiant for all eternity.

Lautrec then ascended the stairs to the upper level of the shrine. With a smirk, he noted the bonfire's flame had gone out. Its comforting warmth now replaced by an eerie cold.

He threw a glance at the Crestfallen warrior, still sitting there, wallowing in self-pity. He seemed rather pale and was covered in cold sweet.

Surely he had heard the commotion below and knew what had just happened.

There was no hiding it.

Snickering, Lautrec motioned towards the way he had just come from with a quick, upward nod, "You can have her next, if you want. She's still warm."


End file.
